Wind of History by Jacek Yerka
"History is a cyclic poem written by Time upon the memories of man". ~Percy Bysshe Shelley
The place my grandmother came from
is the place my child would be destined to go.
There is no way I could have foreseen it,
but here in my sojourn backward I now know.
All the destruction of one bent affliction
of one searching for a cure of a hollowing ache
can leave a path filled with acres of ruin
for the seeds of another generation to face.
For the legacy of this disease of suffering
is a gift no one in sanity would ever choose,
yet it is an inheritance granted with no favor
to the descendants of history's unsettling dues.
is the place my child would be destined to go.
There is no way I could have foreseen it,
but here in my sojourn backward I now know.
All the destruction of one bent affliction
of one searching for a cure of a hollowing ache
can leave a path filled with acres of ruin
for the seeds of another generation to face.
For the legacy of this disease of suffering
is a gift no one in sanity would ever choose,
yet it is an inheritance granted with no favor
to the descendants of history's unsettling dues.
